Weasel Country
by Prika Of The Moonlight
Summary: Two young, inexperienced guards working under the malicious Panther King are given a mission to find and capture a red squirrel. How far are they going to go to appease their king and avoid another harsh punishment? More importantly, how long are they willing to put up with the ridiculous servitude they were born into doing? A Bad Fur Day as seen from someone else's perspective.
1. Chapter 1

In hindsight, he probably should've thought to do something about that table leg.

Well, it's not like anybody told Bill to replace it, or even how to do so. Could anyone blame him? Well, maybe Bob could, but Bob didn't care to say anything at the moment. Bob - the short, portly weasel – was too busy groaning and rubbing at the new marks on his back under his shirt. How undignified for a royal guard, and yet there he was. Thanks to whatever happened to that table, Bill now had a cut in his lower back and needed to patch up his work shirt. It was quite peculiar that those claws of the king's didn't kill him, wasn't it? They had might as well…

Bob especially picked and rubbed at some of the freshly pricked at places on his being. It wasn't like he had to worry about it looking bad; because of his and his lanky partner's rather convenient fur covering, no one would ever see the bruises on their skin. Bob tried to wag his tail, as he always did when he felt distressed or overwhelmed, though the sting was too much to bear at the moment. It seems that the Panther King had recently taken notice to Bob's usual tactic of destressing and made it a habit to tug at the portly weasel's tail when punishing him.

"I'm sorry, Bob…" came Bill's shaking, scratchy voice, the taller weasel leaning his pained body on the spear he held.

Bob turned his head toward Bill, furrowing his brows. Great, now the poor git was gonna act like this was all his fault. And what else was new? It was as though their lives were a checklist: After every "duct tape" session, they'd be standing out in the hallway while whimpering like newborn pups. Then, the taller and older of the two would be apologizing for stuff that wasn't even his fault.

"Yeh, Bill. Next time, you should read th' bastard's mind." Bob scoffed before turning away. "Bluidy 'ell…"

Of course, that was impossible. Any living being of any age knew that no one could read another living being's mind. Yet, around here, it was almost expected of a servant. There was no room for "accidents happen" or "forgive and forget". It was curious how any of the previous generations of weasel servants had even survived taking orders like this. Perhaps those weasels were just better at their job. Maybe Bill and Bob were just inferior somehow.

"You remember what we 'ave to do?" asked Bill, starting to make his way down to hallway with his spear as support.

"Ah think so… Th' boss said 'Fetch me th' professor and don't make me wait!'" Bob tried to make his voice deep and throaty as he mimicked the pompous king, much to Bill's amusement.

"Right, the professor…" Bill uttered before pausing and shaking his head. "….The bloody professor…"

When the two finally approached the large wooden door, marked with several torn bits of paper that all had sloppily written variations of "GO AWAY!" or "BUSY" on them, Bill hesitated to knock. He could almost hear the elder weasel's muffled muttering from behind the door, talking of experiments and chemicals - things neither of the two inexperienced guards understood very well. Whatever any of the things he spoke of really meant, they didn't sound very pleasant. Finally, Bill managed to shakily knock on the door, praying he wasn't to be greeted by the elder weasel chewing his ears out about interruptions.

"Vhat?!" came a shrill voice in reply, quite obviously irritated by the interruption.

"It's only, err... Us, Professor!" Bill stuttered. "We're to escort you to the throne room immediately."

"Ah!" From the very little one could hear of the professor, it seemed all his irritation had been wiped from him, replaced with worry. "Ah, just a minute, ja? Let's see… Have I got everyzhing?"

"Oi," Bob elbowed Bill, looking up at him as he started to whisper. "Why don't ye let me 'andle this, then? You gotta patch up that uniform, anyway."

"Are you sure?" Bill asked. Well, Bob wasn't wrong. Still, it was quite an unusual offer coming from him, considering how insistent he is to never speak in front of the Panther King.

"Ah could 'andle the old, arse-kissing, lunatic cripple. Not like he's even capable of much." Bob replied, turning his gaze to look up at all the sloppy notes on the door. "Go on, then."

Bill nodded in thanks and walked away for his room, hoping he'd have any needles and thread left under his bed. Just as Bill was out of sight, Bob felt himself grabbed onto and lifted into the air before he could even comprehend that the door had opened. He dropped his own spear as he winced at the metallic, almost claw-like appendages gripping him under his right arm as he was pressed against the wall behind him. In front of him were the mismatched eyes of the professor, who held the younger, chubbier weasel up with both hands. The blaring red light from that robotic left eye of the professor's made Bob squint his as he felt the professor's nose pressing on his own.

"So… I am an 'arse-kissing, lunatic cripple who is not capable of anyzhing', ja?" the professor seethed, his organic eye narrowing to a slit.

"A-Ah… Ah didn't r-really say… I didn't say anything like that, P-Professor." Bob stammered, wriggling in the older weasel's grasp. He'd forgotten that the professor was that much bigger than him. Then again, Bob was pretty short, even for a least weasel.

"Are you sure?" the professor growled. "Do you zhink I cannot hear you, loud mouth zat you have?"

"Well, really…" Bob turned his face away from the professor's, shutting his eyes from that blaring red light. "…I didn't say yer not capable of anythin'. I said 'much'." There was no point in lying to the elder's face if he already knew what really happened, not that any of this smart talk would make the professor any less likely to slaughter him right there.

"Much…" the professor repeated, his brow raising. "…Funny how you stay so silent all ze time, except for vhen you zhink no one is listening… But you are right. Ja, you and your slow-witted friend are more capable zhen I am. So much so zat you can clean ze castle floors and even pour milk!"

A grin came to the professor as he spoke that last bit, as though he were trying to decide what to do with his prey. After a moment of silence, the professor finally dropped Bob, letting him hit the ground with a thud. He likely figured he'd get in trouble for injuring or killing a royal guard, not that the king himself didn't do enough of that already. Not to mention, he had to hurry. The king wasn't exactly known for his patience.

"I must go. I am perfectly capable of getting zhere myself." The professor gave Bob one last look as if to say "I'm watching you" before he sped off on his hovering chair.

Bob let out a grunt where he fell, glaring in the direction the professor had hovered off in. That impact made his already sore body feel much, much worse. He could do little but whisper some curse words as he picked himself up and rubbed his rear. That's just the way, isn't it? If there had to be an old man hanging around the castle, why couldn't it have been a nice old man who acted like a grandpa to the poor, young guards and helped them through their insufferable lives as servants to the Panther King? Or a sweet mama-bear kind of lady who would mouth off that bastard for harming her boys?

Well, actually, he already knew the answer to the latter.

Picking his spear up, he could hear Bill's footsteps coming from the corner. Surely enough, the lanky weasel was right in front of him in a matter of seconds. Covering the slash put in his shirt was a brown patch that seemed a bit sloppily sewn on, not that anyone could expect any more out of Bill. Still, it was a bit odd to see him hurry back.

"You're still here?" he asked, frowning as he quickly noticed Bob's expression. "What happened to you?"

"Eerr… th' old ninny wasn't too interested in bein' escorted." Bob muttered, leaning against the wall. "Got 'imself all buggered over it, he did."

"You know, any time we see him, that man scares me." Bill looked toward the door the professor came from, shaking his head. "I probably shouldn't have let you face him alone."

"Dun't think of it, Bill. It's fine. Old ninny's gone now… Th' bastard…" As though Bob were about to continue mouthing the professor off (which, he really wasn't), Bill placed a hand over his mouth.

"Not for long…" Bill uttered, glancing down the hall, in the direction that lead to the throne room. "Don't look now."

From a distance, they could see the professor coming down the hall with a scrunched up, enraged expression on his face. Unsurprisingly, he was muttering what the two could only make out as "my liege" and some curse words under his breath. Bill and Bob both straightened their postures as he passed by, the former taking his hand away from Bob's mouth and folding it behind his back. In the midst of his cursing, the professor snapped his gaze toward the two, causing them to wince. Bob even put his hands over his head.

"Get back to ze throne room!" the professor hissed before hovering back into his room and slamming the door.

Bill gestured for Bob to follow him back to the throne room, only for Bob to ignore him for the moment. The short weasel waddled toward the now shut door, leaning his ear toward it.

"Duct tape?" he could hear the professor growl behind the door. "I'll give him a duct tape! Fucking arsehole! I'll come down here, I'll show him where ze duct tape is…"

Bob narrowed his eyes. Like that old fucker was one to talk. Bill walked over to Bob and nudged him, startling him. Whispering an apology, Bill gestured for him to follow. Ignoring the cursing coming from behind the professor's door, the two made their way back upstairs and toward the double doors to the throne room. Neither exchanged a word on the way there, for there was little to speak of when it came to the throne room. Both of them would rather be anywhere but there and there was no question why. One might be honored to even be able to look into a king's royal quarters, but for them, there was no such feeling. Honor was a fairytale and comfort was a luxury.

Once they stood in front of those large double doors, they paused to look at each other. Bob's half-lidded stare and neutral frown were hard to read, but Bill could tell what he was feeling. He knew that fear and hatred of going through another day of this well, for it was the same feeling he felt. With a sigh, Bill opened one door and entered the room, Bob following behind. They were greeted to a slim red carpet that needed dusting and large stone walls surrounding an empty space as they usually were. Of course, waiting there for them in the back of the dark, empty space sat the much bigger panther whose amber eyes were on them the moment he heard the door's creak.

Bob looked away from the king's gaze as he followed Bill to their place to the right of the throne in front of their own nook in the wall, where they were to stand with their spears lest the king need anything from them. Bill returned the eye contact hesitantly, as though thinking that perhaps it was the right thing to do at the moment. The Panther King, however, only narrowed his eyes toward the weasel with a growl, causing Bill to shrink back. No, that absolutely was not the right thing to do.

Supposedly, the Panther King was waiting on something, likely from the professor, because he hadn't given either of the two orders. After what happened hours prior, neither of the two wanted to even think of what would happen if that old man kept the king waiting. Yes, the professor did often suffer the same punishments as they did, but what was to happen if he wasn't here to take that punishment? All they could do, so Bill thought, was to wait and see.

Meanwhile, he turned his attention to one of the small windows on the wall opposite to them, noticing how blue the sky was. It was sunny out today, wasn't it? Must've been awfully nice for whoever got to be out there. It was funny to think about how some people lived out there in cozy little houses and got to spend days in those fields, doing whatever they liked. Bill was always told that poor people lived out there, doing nothing useful with themselves. Well, even if that was all there was to life outside the castle, being poor couldn't be all bad.

Suddenly, Bill felt sharp, clawed fingers poking at his back. He jumped when he noticed the Panther King looming right over him, tracing his fingers from Bill's back to the right hand that held the wooden spear. He then griped onto Bill's left hand, which the weasel didn't realize had been playing with the ruined flag on the spear for the last few minutes, and moved it away from the spear. Pulling his own paw away from the lanky weasel, the Panther King backed away while gazing down at Bill with an emotion that was too hard to read.

"Don't do that." he demanded with a low growl. "It makes you look idiotic."

"Of course, Sire…" Bill gave a nod as he fixed his posture and folded his left arm back at its side. He was too old to do something so foolishly childish.

The Panther King gave a hum as he began to pace the floor, turning his attention away from the guards and back to his own thoughts. His expression was still painfully hard to read, though one educated guess would be "distain". He folded his large paws behind his back while he kept his amber eyes on the set of double doors ahead. Just for a bit of fun, he snapped his head back toward the guards, watching the two pale and stiffen up suddenly.

Please get back soon, Professor.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gentlemen…"

They hadn't realized what little time they had to sleep that night, between that awful punishment and having to fetch the professor. Did they even sleep that night? At the moment, Bill felt groggy and discombobulated, like his memories were out of order and backwards. The professor came into the throne room and he said something about….potted elephant plants? No, wait. He started talking about how he had been trying to figure out how to fix the table, or something like that. Luckily, Bill and Bob had both trained themselves to wake at the sound of a pin dropping and to make themselves look as though they'd been awake the entire time. They both straightened their postures and looked up at the Panther King, Bob holding back a yawn.

"Yes, My Liege?" Bill asked meekly, still blinking the sand out of his eyes.

"Get me one of these…'red squirrels'." the King growled as he stared right into Bill's eyes, clenching his right fist while his long, grey tail flickered behind him.

Bill flinched at the eye contact his master made with him. Lord, was it uncomfortable when he did that, and the Panther King knew it. He made sure to give Bob the same wide-eyed, intense glare just to make sure the message was ingrained in the both of them. Meanwhile, as Bob tried to look away, he and Bill both wondered just what a squirrel had to do with anything. Not to mention, they weren't too sure of what a red squirrel was; Bill figured they must've missed the professor describing one while they'd fallen asleep. As confused as they were, however, they both knelt on one knee and bowed before the king.

"Yes, My Liege…" Bill uttered, Bob mouthing the same phrase.

Bob looked over at the professor to see if he could catch any reference of what a "red squirrel" was supposed to be on the blueprints he'd set up on that easel. Just when his eyes caught what looked to be a stick figure with a round tail and short ears that had the word "squirrel" scribbled beside it, the professor snatched up the easel and began carrying it away. The elder weasel shot a side glare at Bob, who knitted his brows in response, right before giving a wide grin and speeding out of the throne room. Bob scowled at the doorway the professor hovered out, inwardly cursing himself for coming into contact with that old fuddy duddy willingly.

"Ahem." The Panther King coughed into his hand, causing the two weasels to whip their gazes back up at him once again. "You are dismissed."

Neither of the two dared question any further, despite their lack of knowledge of what the King was even asking for. Questioning anything, especially since they'd just so cleverly covered up the fact that they'd fallen asleep, would be suicide. They both just nodded and turned to walk through the rounded hole in the wall.

"And one more thing." the Panther King added.

"Yes, My Liege?" Bill turned his head back toward the large, greying panther, elbowing a resisting Bob to do the same.

"Do not return to me empty-handed." he continued, the pitch of his already deep voice lowering. "You two hardly cease to disappoint me with how little you've managed to wise up over the years. I'm hoping that this time will be different."

"Yes, Sire." Bill answered, beginning to feel the fur on his long neck stand up.

"If it isn't, you know what'll happen, don't you?" The panther's amber eyes were locked right onto Bob, who promptly looked away, knowingly. "I have no need for guards so foolish."

It wasn't as though neither of them had seen such a threat coming, nor was such a threat unusual coming from the Panther King. Still, they clenched their teeth at the sound of it and it took a lot of strength for them to remain in their proper stances with little reaction. Bill's grip on his spear tightened, as though he were about to face death right at that moment. He glanced back toward Bob, who was suddenly lost in thought with wide eyes. The Panther King gave them a gesture of dismissal, which allowed them to finally turn away and leave his presence.

They hadn't been away from the Panther King for five minutes before Bill allowed himself to break his composure, body shaking and both paws gripping his spear tightly to himself. Every step down the castle stairwell felt heavier to him, as though anything could cause him to lose his balance at any second. Perhaps it should. The stairs might be more forgiving and comfortable. Bob walked silently, as though he were still inside of his head. His eyes had gone back to being half-lidded and his fur was still held in place, unlike Bill's. Often, he was mistaken for being apathetic, but the truth was that he was just good at keeping all of his fear and anger on the inside of himself. Seldom was there any proper outlet for it, and at times he was even jealous of Bill's being able to let out his emotions.

"It's all my fault, isn't it? I knew this would happen…" Bill quaked. "Bob… Say something to me. Tell me you're not upset with me."

Bob was silent, only looking down at his feet as he continued to follow Bill down the stairway. He gave a sigh of irritation, though it wasn't necessarily aimed toward Bill.

"Look, I know I promised not to leave you alone," Bill continued. "But you'll be fine, right? You're strong. Maybe you'll be better off without me-"

"Stop." Bob finally demanded, looking up. "Just what makes yeh think it's gonna be yeh? Yeh do yer job, so do Ah. We do what we can. We get punished for 'is entertainment, for petty purposes. It's 'is bluidy fault, yeh git. Now come on. Let's go find what we can an' get this over with."

"You don't know what a squirrel is, do you?" asked Bill. "Because I've no clue."  
"Nah, probably a small creature wit' a big tail. That's all I got." Bob sighed. "We're screwed, huh?"

"Maybe we don't have to be…." Bill put a paw to his forehead, rubbing under his metal helmet. "Bob, do you think that maybe we could… I don't know, leave?"

"And go where?" Bob asked, cocking a brow.

"Anywhere? I don't know. Who's to say we'll find a squirrel nearby? Maybe we'll have to travel far away to find one!" Bill continued. "Maybe it'll take days! Weeks! Years, Bob! That sounds reasonable, right?"

"Yer not slick." Bob sighed. "Listen, Ah hate him and Ah hate livin' 'ere. We don't know nuthin' 'bout livin' anywhere else, though. What could we do? If we even try anythin' sneaky, he'll catch us."

"Let's just go get a house and then we could learn about what it's like to be peasants!" Bill continued down the stairway until making his way toward the door to the outside. "We could change our clothes and blend in with the other weasels! Aren't there more of them living on the land's outskirts? No one will find us."

"With what money?" Bob followed Bill out as the door was opened, then cut in front of him and turned toward him. "You got anythin'?"

"….No." Bill's shoulders dropped at this. He hated it when that happened, any time he thought he'd come up with something brilliant, only for it to be quickly proven not to work. "….I supposed we'd better figure out what a squirrel is."

They made their way away from the castle, down a grassy hill toward the world their boss supposedly ruled over. The castle overlooked a wide, green valley that rested just below a barnyard and a man-made mountain where the dung beetles resided. Unfortunately, it was the latter the two guardsmen had to cut through first. The overbearing scent of feces caught Bill's nose by surprise not the second he stepped foot on the moist, lumpy texture.

"Ack! Ah, blimey!" Bill clasped his paws over his nose, coughing as he forced himself to step further onto the beetles' territory. It didn't help that his bare feet had to touch the slimy poo as he walked on it.

"Mmm…" Bob, however, padded passed Bill and began to observe the area with squinted eyes. "Nuthin' but beetles live 'ere if Ah'm rememberin' right. Not sure any 'squirrel' in th' right mind would come up 'ere. Gotta admit, though; it's rather impressive that th' dung beetles made this themselves."

"Oh, 'impressive', indeed." Bill uttered under his paws. "It's a wonder His Majesty's never had this all knocked down. There's one thing I wouldn't have minded."

"Wot's up wit' you, then?" Bob asked, turning a confused gaze toward Bill.

"This stench doesn't… Never mind." Bill had forgotten that it took a lot for something for something to phase Bob's nostrils. Either that, or Bob just couldn't smell.

Bob knitted his brows together before looking away from Bill and starting to move ahead of him. There was a very large hill where dung beetles rolled around their lumpy balls of poo into little crevices they'd made homes for themselves in, a large opening at the very bottom of it. In front of the man-made hill was a small cabin, where surely someone resided. Bob opened the door to it slightly, only to find an empty desk and an opened trap door that was filled up with contaminated water. He walked inside, Bill following and shutting the door to the cabin immediately before gasping for air.

"Standin' on this mountain's bad enough, but any creature would 'ave to be mad to swim in that." Bob uttered as he peered into the trap door. "Prob'ly wouldn't be worth askin' yeh to go down there, would it?"

Bob noticed quickly that Bill wasn't paying attention to him. He turned away from the trap door to see Bill holding up a soggy magazine that had a top-naked beaver woman on the cover. As Bill observed the magazine's rather scandalous contents, Bob approached him from behind and looked over his shoulder.

"What th' 'ell's that?" Bob started to reach for the magazine as Bill held it away from him and gave a playful grin.

"I can't show you! You're too young for this yet!" the taller weasel teased.

"Come off it, yeh git. I'm only a year short of yeh." Bob knitted his brows in irritation while Bill continued to chuckle.

"I think you mean a year and a half, Bob."

"We're both in our twenties."

"Fair enough." Bill handed the soggy magazine to Bob, who gave a grunt of discomfort at just how wet it was as he flipped through it. He almost regretted asking to look at it, as he hated the feeling of water.

"These gurls look uncomfortable. Yeesh." Bob uttered, especially wincing at one picture which showed one of the models in bondage. "What made yeh look through this?"

"I wanted to see if there were any squirrels in it." Bill replied. "All of the girls innat book seem to be the same species, though."

"Th' thing says 'Beaver Monthly' on th' front. Ah think these are beavers." Bob dropped the soggy magazine to the floor. He had no use for the blurred pictures, which was a shame because it seemed that the girls in them would be pretty cute otherwise.

"Y'know, I suppose someone had to come this way." Bill began. "Someone went in that disgusting pool down there, dropped their magazine and came out here. Whoever he is, he might still be around here."

"Yer assumin' it's a bloke?"

"Who's to say the owner of that magazine isn't a squirrel? Dung beetles don't swim, do they?" Bill looked at the magazine again, picking it back up and observing the barcode on the back. There was an address above it, but it was entirely blurred into a mess of black ink from how wet it was. "…Mother Nature doesn't make anything easy."

Leaving the magazine behind and walking out of the cabin, the two opted for walking around the large poo hill for any signs of anything that wasn't a dung beetle. As they made their way behind the hill, they caught sight of a short, round-eared animal wearing a blue poncho. The animal knelt down and started scratching at the feces they stood on. Bill tried to resist scrunching his face up in disgust at this until the animal revealed a plank of wood that was hidden under the feces. Upon the animal lifting the plank, the two weasels could see a staircase that lead to the underground.

"Looks about th'height of the gap, right?" Bill whispered. Bob nodded.

The animal padded slowly down the stairs, as though they were fragile and easily broken. This didn't bother Bill and Bob, for they'd trained themselves to stand still and quietly for when they'd stand gracefully at each side of the king's throne. The skill that's been forced into their skulls had finally become useful for something other than show, for it clicked in both of their brains that they were hunters now. If they had to dishonestly stalk such a small and fragile creature, then so be it. Bob was apathetic, Bill excited. Whatever got their lives spared, they were all for. Whatever kept them together, they'd do.

Bob went first, slowly moving his weight down the stairs as soon as the small creature was out of sight. He took about three or four steps down before stopping and motioning Bill to follow. They both took their time down these steps, careful not to allow the creature in front of them to hear them. Soon, they found themselves out in some sort of rocky cavern that was split by the end of a u-bend. Looking down, they noticed that they were the U-bend suspended them above the brightness and heat of lava. However, Bob's eyes wandered just a little to the right, which allowed him to realize that the inside of the u-bend was littered with rotating blades. The way to this place was well-guarded, as one wrong step would either have them burned or sliced in half.

Bob felt a nudge at his shoulder, looking up to see Bill's hand pointing toward the still slowly moving critter moving across a small wooden bridge. The creature paused to reach under their poncho, pulling out a folded sheet of paper with little words scribbled on it and studying it. That's when Bill bounded forward.


	3. Chapter 3

Bill grabbed the hood of the blue garment the small, fuzzy critter wore, which finally gained their notice. The short animal turned her head toward the much taller weasel, knitting her brows.

"What on Earth do you think you're doing?" she demanded in a wheezy voice.

The target the weasels had acquired seemed to be an elder woman, judging by her voice, the wrinkles on her face, and how slowly she moved. Yep, she was certainly getting up there in age. She had large, round ears, brown fur, a twitchy little nose, a round snout, and chubby cheeks. With her age and her chubby little body, it was unusual to think she'd be venturing underground where boiling lava waited right underneath her. Yet, here she was, ripe for the taking and ready to be brought to the Panther King.

"Your presence is required at the castle, Madame." Bill replied with a grin. "We'll need you to come with us right away."

"Am I expected to be playing dress up with you two strange young men right now?" asked the woman, cocking a brow. "I'm in a hurry!"

"We won't tolerate resistance, Ma'am. Help me, Bob!"

Bob trudged over, reaching for the old woman's left arm that she'd tucked under her poncho, grabbing it. Once Bill let go of her hood and took her arm instead, they began to carry her off. However, before they could get up the stairway, Bob felt a rather big foot kick into his side and knock him away from the woman. As he rolled into the dirt, carefully catching himself so he wouldn't tumble off the edge, he let off a growl toward the old woman.

"Yeh rowdy ol' hag! Why, if we didn't need yer legs, I'd… I'd…" he groaned, picking himself up.

"Oh, really? But my feet aren't lucky." The woman said meekly as she dug into her big pocket on the front of her poncho. She hung by Bill's grasp, who squinted his eyes when he was presented with a celery stick. "You young boys are awfully rough. Here's a snack to share while you wait for somebody else to play with you."

"We're men, Ma'am, and we're not playing games." Bill hissed, lifting the woman closer to his face. "…And, uh, we don't eat vegetables either."

"Well, that's no good." Said the old woman with concern. "Young men need greens to stay healthy. Let me give you some more."

Bob grabbed the woman's free arm again, trying to disregard the celery stalk that was now in his face.

"At least now we know 'er legs are strong." Bob uttered. "Ah was startin' ta think this squirrel might not of been worth it."

"Squirrel?" The old woman raised her brows. "Now hold on a minute, you boys! You're even more confused than I thought!"

Bill was about to lead Bob up the stairs with the haul they got when the woman's words made him freeze. She wasn't what they were looking for after all? Well, she did look short enough but… If she wasn't what the professor said to look for, it probably wouldn't do? But how wouldn't it? Was the Panther King any wiser than them? Maybe not, but if he was…

"Ma'am, what are you?" Bill asked.

"I'm a pika, young man." Replied the old woman.

At that moment, Bob released the woman's arm and snapped a squinted-eyed gazed at her. Bill sighed and gently set the women down in front of him, then setting his free hand on his hip.

"A pika." He said, annoyed. "I've never heard of a pika in my life."

"It appears as though you two have never heard of a squirrel in your lives either." Replied the woman. "Squirrels have big, bushy tails and I don't. You two really should start eating your greens. It might help."

"Really?" Bill asked. "And what else?"  
"A squirrel will have a twitchy nose-"

" _You_ have a twitchy nose, Ma'am."

"But I don't have a bushy tail!"

Bob couldn't help but cock a brow, setting himself next to Bill and nudging his elbow.

"Bill, how do we know we could trust 'er?" he whispered as Bill leaned a little closer to him. "She's kind of… Y'know…"

"I know, but the professor wasn't kind enough to tell us anything." Bill whispered back.

For someone who was in a hurry, the pika didn't seem to have any issue standing there while the guardsmen came to their conclusion. In the meantime, she began to dig in her poncho's pocket again, pull out more vegetables, and shove them into Bob's arms before he even noticed.

"I'd like you to have a little more greens to help get you boys into shape. I thought maybe it'd make you feel a little better. You both seem so down." She said.

"Ma'am, could you tell us more about red squirrels?" asked Bill.

"Oh, red squirrels? Well, they're red!" replied the elder pika. "They have shiny, bright red fur. They're very pretty if I do say so! Don't mix 'em up with those common gray squirrels, though."

"Red fur… Big bushy tail…" Bill uttered to himself to get himself to remember. "…And they're short, too?"

"Most of 'em, I think." The pika replied. "Well, it's been so nice to meet you both, but I have to go. I'm seeing my granddaughter at her new job! She's a dancer, y'know. Oh, but if you see her, don't tell her I'm comin'! It's a surprise!"

Before either of them could question the woman further, she had turned away and began crossing the bridge to what looked to be the next underground realm. They had to assume that wherever the little old pika was going was safe enough, for what kind of theater would be built somewhere inaccessible and dangerous? Then again, they both could hear roaring in the distance. Maybe that was just part of the production.

"Damn… We should've asked her where we could find a squirrel…" muttered Bill. "You don't suppose one would be nearby, would you?"

"….Ah wouldn't know." Bob shrugged, one of the vegetables falling from his arms and rolling into the lava. "We 'aven't seen much of this place. Ah didn't even know you could go underground."

"Some royal guardsmen we are. All the information we 'ave about this place is from stories my mum used to tell us and whatever the professor could be arsed to tell us." Sighed Bill, brushing his hand under his helmet.

"And whatever we observe from every time we go to milk one of 'em uptight cows up there." Added Bob, who started to nibble on a celery stalk. Let's see… There's a mountain of bull shit where dung beetles live, who keep cows captive to make more bull shit. Next to the poo 'ill is an abandoned barn that some objects had taken up residence in, along with bats, bees, and th' most annoying mouse! There are no other places of residence in sight. Add on what yer mum used to tell us."

"Weasels, who used to run the land, have mostly scattered. And the rest of the population? One panther." Bill had been observing their surroundings as he spoke, looking into the u-bend's entrance behind them. "How is there only one of him, anyway? If there supposedly used to be so many of us…"

"Ah don't know. Like you said, all we know is what she was allowed to tell us. Have somethin' to eat, Bill. Yer getting' skinnier every day."

Bob poked Bill with another celery stalk. Bill turned away from the u-bend for a moment to cock a brow at the gesture.

"….Do you really think I'm going to eat that?" Bill asked.

"Ye might as well." Replied Bob. "It's going to be a long day."

"I won't touch anything that's not meaty."

Bob then threw a carrot at Bill's face.

"…Oh, alright."

Bill picked up the carrot and took the celery stalk, then started to nibble on it as well. They hadn't really had a proper breakfast that morning, so it at least gave them their nourishment for the day. Bill hated the way it felt on his teeth, how it crunched and shed this tasteless juice. Bob couldn't complain; it was a horrible waste not to utilize something given out for free, after all. It wasn't like they'd ever get to sit down and eat something they'd really want any time soon, anyway.

"….Hey, Bob? Do you remember how I was talking about running away earlier?" Bill asked, quickly met with a groan from Bob.

"We talked about this, Bill. That'd be impossible. As much as I'd like to, we 'ave no place to go and we don't got any money."

"Actually, about the money… I was thinking we could scam whoever comes through here!" Bill then gestured toward the strip of land that stood between the two bridges. "Look, we could stand there, block the bridge the lady just crossed with our spears, then demand money for them to get passed. We'll act like the king requires us to demand money for their passage, since that woman did notice our attire after all. Anyone will be able to tell we're royal mercenaries."

"Really?" asked Bob, setting his right hand on his hip. "And who's going to come through 'ere? Y'think anyone's really going t'find that secret entrance? Or go through that bluidy u-bend that's filled up with blades?"

"Why not? That old pika came through that secret entrance." Bill started to peer down the u-bend, inching closer to its edge. "And now that I look… This u-bend is made so people to pass through! There's a ladder someone could climb up to 'ere, and a rope, too!"

"It's probably just a complicated trap someone built a long time ago. Maybe even castle guards before us built it to keep anyone else out." Bob started to peer down the u-bend, too, while grabbing Bill's sleeve and pulling him away from the edge. "No one could come through there. They'd get their arses sliced to bits in seconds!"

"You think so?" Bill asked as he tugged himself away from Bob's grasp. "I don't know. I think they might have a chance."

"A chance. Don't be bluidy ridiculous." Bob knitted his brows as he looked away from the taller weasel and toward the direction the old pika walked into. Gripping onto the spear he held, he rubbed the sweat off his temple with his free hand. God, it was hot here. "Maybe you should try it out yerself, see 'ow well that works out for yeh."

"….What a great idea!"

The spear Bill held gave a "clunk!" as it hit the ground right behind where Bob stood. Bob turned to face it again, only to find that Bill was now longer standing there. His eyes went wide as he ran toward the top of the u-bend to look over it.

"Bill?"

Bill had already made it all the way down the rope that hung there and swung into the hole in its wall to make his way to the other side of the u-bend. Much to Bob's horror, it seemed he really was meaning to face the rotating blades that awaited him there.

"Bill! No, no! You… Y-you stupid bloke! Ah didn't mean to-I… Oh, no…"

Bob dropped his spear, beginning to shudder at the sheer thought of what was going to happen to Bill down there. He grabbed his own ears, covering them as he shut his eyes tightly. If Bill got sliced in half down there, he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear what would mark his being all alone again. He could just stand there forever, not hearing or seeing a thing until the Panther King himself came to collect him and put an end to his life.

Not long later, there came a gentle tap on Bob's shoulder. _Here he is now, about to yell my ears off right before he ends me!_ Bob thought. There came two gentle taps. That's just how it was. There was a calm before the storm. He was always elegant before he was monstrous. Always with his slow movements and way of speech, peering down with his bright amber eyes right before he roared and tore into one's body.

Though at the moment, his claws seemed awfully small. Not to mention…wet?

Bob's eyes snapped open, much to Bill's relief.

"Are you alright?" Bill asked, backing away slightly.

"I-I… Ah'm fine." Bob shook the worry off himself right away, almost as though he'd never shut down in the first place. He then gave Bill a hard elbow to the side. "Don't yeh ever do that again! Stupid bloke…"

"Ow! Alright, well I'm glad you're okay because we need to get into place." Bill picked his spear up with his dripping hands and started for the small strip of land in between the two bridges. "There's a squirrel coming!"

"…A what?!" Bob followed as soon as he picked his own spear up, cocking a brow. "Don't tell me you saw a real squirrel down there."

"I did!" Bill replied, giving a grin. "A red one, too!"

"And yeh expect it's gonna make it all th' way up 'ere?"

"Why not? I did!"

"And joost 'ow in th' 'ell did yeh manage to do that?"

"I'm a good swimmer. I thought you'd have noticed by now."

As the two continued their banter as they got into position, another had since taken notice. Someone stood far behind them, taking cover where the dinosaurs roamed as he listened to the duo, studying how they spoke and what they did. They were trying to scam a squirrel? Amateurs. Easy pickings for a professional like him.


End file.
